


Hope That Something Pure Can Last

by annemari



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's shoulder is bony and uncomfortable under Brendon's cheek, but at least he's warm, and Brendon can't bring himself to move away. He's this close to falling asleep, his eyes barely staying open, when Spencer appears in front of them and announces, "We're not getting out of here tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope That Something Pure Can Last

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a [bandomstuffsit](http://community.livejournal.com/bandomstuffsit) gift for [sailorstkwrning](http://sailorstkwrning.livejournal.com/). I've never actually been to the Amsterdam airport. The statue is [this one](http://www.flickr.com/photos/rich_lem/3397369865/). Thanks to [free2hate](http://free2hate.livejournal.com/) for looking this over for me. Title from _We Used To Wait_ by Arcade Fire.

Ryan's shoulder is bony and uncomfortable under Brendon's cheek, but at least he's _warm_ , and Brendon can't bring himself to move away. He's _this_ close to falling asleep, his eyes barely staying open, when Spencer appears in front of them and announces, "We're not getting out of here tonight."

Jon sighs on Ryan's other side, and Ryan asks, "The flight's been delayed for that long?"

"Well, yes," says Spencer, and sits down next to Brendon. "But we're also stuck _here_. In the airport. All the roads are closed, and the closest hotel is already full."

Ryan's body tenses for a second, and then he relaxes and lets his head slump down to rest on Brendon's.

"So are we gonna sleep here for the night?" Jon asks.

Brendon is all for that idea. He doesn't realise he's said it out loud until Ryan murmurs, "Not on this bench, idiot."

No one else reacts. Maybe he didn't say it out loud. Maybe Ryan can read minds now.

Brendon can feel Spencer shrugging on his other side. "I guess," he says. "A lot of people are."

Well, then, there's really no point in staying up any longer. Brendon shifts a little so Ryan's shoulder isn't cutting straight into his cheek, and closes his eyes.

"I'm gonna go and get us coffee," Jon says.

*

Brendon feels marginally more awake after coffee, which is a bit inconvenient, seeing as the other guys are pretty much asleep. They've migrated onto some comfier chairs, but now he can't lean against someone and put his head on their shoulder, 'cause the armrests are in the way.

It's a little disconcerting, being stuck in the Amsterdam airport, especially so close to Christmas. There are people all around, lying on benches and chairs, some on the floor, just waiting to get home, and Brendon's always liked people watching. Still, it's not as much fun alone, and Brendon's getting restless. He jiggles his foot a little, then leans forward to check if anyone is awake.

Jon's curled up in his chair, and Ryan and Spencer have somehow managed to slump on each other, despite the armrests.

Brendon tells himself he's jealous only because he wants to cuddle too, not because of the way Ryan's clutching on to Spencer's shirt. He turns and leans close to Jon.

"Jon," he whispers. "Joooon."

Jon merely hums in response.

"I'm gonna check this place out," Brendon says, and waits for Jon to say something. He could just disappear, but he likes announcing what he's doing and Spencer had told him once that "people worried, god," after punching him in the arm.

Jon blinks one eye open and murmurs, "Don't get lost."

*

The airport is actually pretty nice, compared to some of the others they've been in.

Some people are sleeping on the floor, and Brendon has to carefully sidestep them. There are people in the small cafés, but other than that, there doesn't seem to be many open places to go to. Most of the stores are closing and Brendon wanders around, just taking in the place where they'll be spending the night. The storm hadn't seemed so bad when they were taking the bus here, but apparently it's picked up speed.

They'll get home soon, though, Brendon thinks. He's not sure yet what he's going back to, but it's not long till Christmas. He'll figure it out.

Brendon moves from one lounge to the other, making note of weird or cool things he wants to show the guys later. Finally, he finds himself standing in front of a map, trying to make sense of where exactly he is. The airport isn't _that_ huge, they've been to bigger ones. They've just never been stuck in one overnight. It's kind of cool, actually, Brendon thinks. Even though the others are asleep, he quite likes just being on his own. Just for a little while, though.

"Hey," someone says, and Brendon startles. He quickly turns around and finds Ryan standing there.

Ryan's hair is sticking up a little on one side, and he looks tired. Brendon wonders why he's not still sleeping, he could use the rest. They all could, Brendon included.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Ryan asks him, scratching the side of his neck.

Brendon's eyes focus on the way it makes the hair near his ear move, the light catching it.

He tears his gaze away.

"Couldn't," he says. "Too much coffee."

"It was just one cup," Ryan points out.

"You came looking for me?" Brendon asks, wondering.

"You weren't there." Ryan shrugs.

"I told Jon I was going to explore."

Ryan just shrugs again. "Yeah — I. He said something like that."

"How did you even find me?" Brendon asks, and he sounds petulant even to himself. It's weird, he's not sure why, but he feels caught off guard. Ryan just smiles, though, and Brendon thinks he must already be past his normal level of tiredness if he's gone from cranky to amused-by-everything.

"I asked around," Ryan says, with a smirk.

"What, really?" Brendon asks, sidetracked.

"Yeah. 'Excuse me, has anyone seen a thin dorky guy with stupid-looking glasses?'"

"And it worked?" Brendon asks, pouting, feeling the moment pass and the world shift back to normal.

"Well, obviously," Ryan points out, and cracks a small smile. "So, did you find anything good?"

"Oh!" Brendon says. "You totally need to see this."

*

"What?" Ryan asks, staring at the sculpture.

"I have no idea," Brendon says gleefully.

"Why?" asks Ryan.

Brendon just grins at the sculpture. It's the ugliest thing ever, two guys — guy-like things — sitting back to back, looking weirdly disfigured. He wants to climb it.

"I'm gonna climb it," he announces.

"What," Ryan says, again, but Brendon's already grabbing hold of one of the heads and hoisting himself onto the sculpture. Seriously, it's clearly meant to be climbed on.

He finds his balance on the feet of the sculpture and then looks behind him. Ryan's watching him with the usual exasperated glare that he saves for the moments when Brendon's doing something that Ryan thinks is stupid. Okay, sometimes even Brendon thinks what he's doing is stupid, but that's not really a reason not to do it. Ryan's glaring at him and Brendon smiles. He loves those glares, they're meant only for him.

"A little help?" he asks.

"You can't get down by yourself?" Ryan asks, pointedly.

"No," Brendon says. "I want to climb on _top_ of it."

Ryan's eyes widen. "No. I am not helping you, no. You'll fall and break your neck and then we won't have a singer and Spencer will kill me."

"Oh, so you only love me for my voice," Brendon says, mock-hurt. "I see how it is."

Ryan presses his lips together and not so much crosses his arms as he wraps them around himself.

Brendon blinks. Weird.

"Ryan," he says. "I won't fall if you help me."

He holds out his hand, waves it at Ryan, fluttering his fingers.

"You will fall and you will die," Ryan says in a dangerous monotone. "Get down."

Brendon would argue further, but that's when he spots two guys wearing security uniforms in the distance.

"Oops," Brendon says, and jumps down from the sculpture. He almost slips, but Ryan grabs his elbow and pulls Brendon closer to him.

"What?" Ryan asks, yet again, but he doesn't push Brendon away.

"Um, how about we go that way," Brendon says, cheerfully, and pulls Ryan with him. Ryan cranes his neck to see what Brendon's looking at and immediately quickens his pace.

They hurry away from the sculpture as inconspicuously as they can, considering they're still holding on to each other and trying not to trip over each other's feet. Brendon doesn't even know where they're heading.

"Um," he says when they finally stop near the escalators that go down to the baggage hall. The lights are reflecting on the dark floor. "You of course know where we left the others, right?"

Ryan doesn't answer. Brendon turns his head and Ryan's not looking at him. He's looking at his hand. Which is holding Brendon's.

Brendon thinks about pulling away, but Ryan's hand is warm and a little sweaty, and Brendon really likes holding onto it. He wriggles his fingers and then clasps Ryan's hand tighter.

Ryan looks up at him, brow furrowed. Brendon can't read the look in his eyes.

"Hi," Brendon says, 'cause it seems like the thing to say. "Do you remember where we left the others?"

Ryan lets go of Brendon's hand. Brendon wills his face not to give in to a pout. He turns and starts walking — hopefully in the right direction — and Brendon follows.

"So eager to get back and escape my pleasant company," Ryan says, joking. Somehow, it sounds wrong.

"Nah," Brendon says. "Spencer wouldn't have even let me close to the sculpture. And Jon would probably have let me climb on the head."

"And I'm the middle ground," Ryan says. Brendon has to admit that that's not always true, but he's still glad it was Ryan who came and found him, and not the others. It's just how it is.

"And that's why you're my favorite," he sing-songs, affectionate.

"No, I'm not," Ryan scoffs, but he's smiling.

Brendon mock-frowns. "Of course you are, Ryan."

He slings an arm around Ryan's shoulder, Ryan turns his head away. Brendon's familiar with this, though.

"Ryan," he croons into Ryan's ear. "Ryan, you're my faaavorite."

His lips brush Ryan's ear and Ryan freezes under his arm, stops. Brendon almost stumbles from the inertia.

"Ryan?" Brendon asks, confused.

Ryan doesn't answer him. Brendon sees his throat move as he swallows. They're so close, he could lean forward just a little bit, and he'd be—

Ryan abruptly turns his head towards him, and Brendon jolts backwards.

"What," he asks, stupidly.

Ryan's looking him straight in the eye and Brendon registers faintly that Ryan's hand has somehow found its way onto Brendon's hip. He's not sure if Ryan has even noticed.

"Do you mean it," Ryan asks, and Brendon has to shake his head to clear it, to try and remember what they were talking about.

It probably sends the wrong message.

Ryan's face clouds over and Brendon hates seeing that, so he fists his hand in Ryan's shirt in return, and asks, "Mean what?"

Ryan looks down and shuffles backwards, putting a little more space between them. Brendon wants to grab his chin and force him to look at Brendon again. Instead, he repeats the question.

"What you said," Ryan says quietly.

Brendon's about to rewind the entire conversation in his head, but then it hits him.

Favorite. He called Ryan his favorite, which would be an innocent statement, except for the fact that it's totally, completely true.

Brendon loves all of them, so much, but Ryan is clearly his favorite, always has been. He figured Ryan knew, Brendon certainly never hid it. He made sure not to hide it, so he'd never be questioned about it.

"Um," he says, not sure how to respond.

"Did it mean what — what I think it meant?"

"Now you've lost me," Brendon admits.

"Oh," Ryan says quietly. "Never mind then."

"Ryan," Brendon says, feeling uncertain and frustrated.

"Did you —" Ryan trails off.

What Brendon really can't stand is the way Ryan's suddenly so far from him. He steps closer to breach the distance.

Ryan looks up at that and locks eyes with Brendon for a moment. His gaze skitters away again, but Brendon could swear that it lingered on Brendon's mouth, just for a second.

"Um," Brendon says.

"No, okay," Ryan says. "It's— Look. I— Spencer said something the other day, okay, and I was just — I thought. I don't know, that you... But it's obviously not. Like that. So."

He looks up, and meets Brendon's gaze, so clearly trying to look defiant, almost pulling it off.

 _Oh_. That. The thing Brendon has actively _not_ been thinking about for the past two years. The thing he's tried to hide in plain sight, hoping his exaggerated fondness for Ryan would be passed off as, well, exaggerated.

He doesn't know what to do. It seems Ryan's finally figured it out, or maybe he's known _all along_ and Brendon had been _so_ careful —

Ryan steps back. Brendon leans forward and kisses him.

After a split second of _oh my god, what; what; what am I doing_ Brendon's brain shuts down as Ryan grabs hold of his elbow and pulls him closer.

Brendon goes willingly, pressing himself against Ryan and eagerly attacking his mouth. For a second, he thinks about stopping, because what if he read this all wrong, what if this is _not_ what Ryan meant when he asked Brendon. Maybe it wasn't tamped down hope that Brendon thought he saw in Ryan's eyes.

Ryan just keeps kissing him, though, and then Brendon's almost shaking from it, the realisation that _Ryan wants this, too_.

When they finally break apart, Brendon's breathing in short gasps, trying to stop shivering. He pulls Ryan back in and leans his forehead against his. Ryan's eyes are huge and so, so familiar.

"Okay," Ryan says, voice shaking slightly. "Um."

"I meant it," Brendon says, quickly.

"... Yeah?" Ryan asks. He's so close Brendon could count his eyelashes. That would probably take too much time, though; besides, the number can change any second, so what's the point. Instead wraps his arms around Ryan's waist and pulls him even closer.

"Yes," he says.

"That's good," Ryan says, and Brendon buries his face in his neck, grinning.

"So, more exploring?" Ryan asks, just when Brendon thinks he could probably fall asleep right there, clinging on to Ryan. Ryan's just so _comfortable_ , which doesn't make sense, considering he's all angles and skinny knees. But he's _Ryan_ and his hands are warm on Brendon's back. He pretty much never wants Ryan to let go of him.

Brendon pulls back to look Ryan in the eye and opens his mouth to say that, but he's cut off by a yawn before he gets any of the words out.

"Uh," he says, and Ryan laughs softly. "I think I'm good to sleep now."

Ryan smiles and grabs Brendon's hand.

*

They finally manage to find the others, after starting off in the wrong direction several times and getting distracted along the way — Ryan by a museum that was unfortunately closed, Brendon mostly by Ryan.

Spencer and Jon are still asleep in the chairs, both of their legs stretched out, as if just asking for people to trip over them.

They're both covered by their jackets; Ryan pulls Spencer's up from where it has slipped down.

Brendon settles into the third chair, and Ryan joins him without hesitation.

It's a little difficult to fit the two of them into one chair, but they manage. Ryan falls asleep first, his head on Brendon's shoulder, wheezing softly. Brendon tightens his arms around Ryan's waist, and holds on.


End file.
